Trauma and Other Performance Hindering Ailments
by The Ivy Among Roses
Summary: What we never see the aftermath of the Gravedigger, but as with all trauma aftermaths, something unexpected always happens. twoshot
1. Chapter 1

_A/N I seem to like writing sad and lonely things, so here we go again! Reviews welcome. The immediate aftermath of the gravedigger incident for all the characters who were buried alive. Starting with Hodgins. _

_I can feel everything. The cool air condition in the lab against my skin, the round looking glasses in the microscope against my eyes, the harsh light invading my retinas as I stared at even more particulates. Angela sits behind me, quietly, so as not to disturb my work, but it frightens me to have another person behind me, a person who is trying to be quiet and still, a person so quiet I wonder if she is still there half the time. A part of me wishes she would get up and perform the national dance of Quebec, at least then I would know she was there, know that I wasn't alone… _

_But even in her presence, even in the open world, full of noise, and brightness, full of people, happy, breathing people. Even here, I am suffocating having dirt walls close in around me. I am still in that van. _

"Jack?"_ Angela's voice feels far away, an echo, the silent echo of another presence._

_I push the wheeled chair away from the desk violently, as I feel a hand on my shoulder. Somehow I know that it is Angela, but somewhere deep inside the folds of my brain, The Gravedigger is pulling me into a coffin. I look up into Angela's face, and see the hurt, the confusion, the need to help, etched everywhere on her face. _

"Jack? Please go home. It's 6 in the morning, and honey, believe me no one is coming to work today_." _

"T-That doesn't matter to me. I don't care about the time; I don't care if this place is empty. I can't go home. Not until I identify these particulates_." I can hear my voice cracking, but I don't care, and I can see Angela purse her lips, and slowly move my chair back over to the microscope, hoping she hasn't noticed the tears that follow my voice crack._

_I can't leave. He'll get me again if I do. _

"Jack,"_ I look around as Angela's voice changes now sharp," _If you do not come now I will get security to zap you, with that… zappy thing. I don't care if it causes you even more trauma, that's what we have Sweets for. You are going to sleep. You are going to sleep today. Not tomorrow, not when you are done analyzing, now. SO! What's it gonna be bud?"

_I crumble as she stares at me sternly, more like I am a naughty child then an adult, as though I need to be guided through life, then able to make decisions myself. When I don't move or speak, she grabs my hand, passing me the crutches I now need to use because of my leg, and follow her out of my office. She helps me into the back of my car. _

"Where are we going?" _I ask, alarm clouding my thoughts, and adrenaline flowing through my blood, clotting it like ink, as she turns right instead of left, and then takes a left even farther away from my apartment._

"Relax! I'm taking you back to my place, that way I can drug into a medically induced coma if you aren't asleep by 7. No Jack, put your seat belt back on, I'm joking."

_I don't relax, though I do put my seatbelt back on. More people die of seat belt abuse then of tornados. I hate being in this car, and I leave the window open, and pray that the early morning air that streams in doesn't turn into dirt, dirt that would have been the last thing I ever interacted with had it not been for Dr. Brennan. This car. The woman in the front seat. I can feel the sweat begin to run down my face, feel my heart beat 30km faster, and my breathing try to keep up with it. It's too similar. Too real. _

_I ask Angela to turn the AC up, but she says it's on full blast. I can hear the worry in her voice, the slightly lower tone as she looks back to the road, and I silently curse my classic cars. _

_When we finally arrive at her apartment, she parks in the parking garage. I freeze. She instantly realizes her mistake, and brings me around to the front of the building, asking a stranger to stay with me while she parks the car. _

_Mrs. Mackenzie wishes me a happy recovery, and I wish her schnauzer a happy vet visit, as Angela returns, not talking about her mistake. She knows I don't want to talk about it._

_Up in her apartment, she says she'll take the couch, but I insist on taking it instead, telling her it's longer then her bed, and in case of fire, I can get out easier. She gives me a look. _

_A look that says "_I see right through that half thought out lie, and don't pretend you're fine you're not, so you can have the couch but expect several check ins during the day." _Yeah, that look._

_I lie down tiredly, finally realizing how tired I am. My eyelids sag and my leg burns, the pain killers they gave me to take home from the hospital, still sealed in their bottle. The government only provides those to give you LSD. The minute you take one, you're in the control group._

_And besides, if I wanted mind numbing crap like that, I would have stayed in the hospital a bit longer, so they could supply me with morphine. _

_I eventually fall into an uneasy sleep, but as I dream I am shattered._

_I am in a parking garage, and there's a coffin solid and wooden, sitting in the middle of a pile of dirt. A stabbing pain makes me look down at my leg and I see the blood, pooling down my torn jean leg, the ragged bone and flesh making me nauseous. _

_Suddenly something heavy hits me from behind, so hard I fly into the coffin, and its lid seals me I, and all I hear is the screams… _

"Jack! Jack! Wake up, it's not real! Just wake up! Jack!"

_I don't even know my hand is crushing her windpipe, before I feel her fingers pulling at the hand that has a firm grip on her esophagus. I left go as soon as I realize I'm chocking her. _

"Ang! Ang I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you! My dream, it was…" _I start sobbing uncontrollably, shaking, tears hot and wet streaming down my cheeks, and my face aching form the contorted fashion it holds itself in when I cry._

"Jack, it's okay, don't cry, really I'm fine_. _ Hey tell you what? How about I call Sweets, he said you need anything then we can call. So I'm just gonna get him over here. Nothing like a therapy lesson to help you sleep better am I right?"_ I feel terrible, because as she dials the shrink's number and begins talking to him, telling him about my homicidal action, her voice sounds like a 1976 version of Wind in the Willows, as if she is imitating a frog. I stop crying so she can talk, but tears keep coming from my eyes, stinging and salty._

_She ends the call, and clears her throat. We don't speak, just wait for Sweets. I don't look at Angela, but I can feel her eyes boring in to me. It is several long and awkward minutes before Angel's door bell rings, minutes spent in silence, silence as deep as a coffin… _

_Sweets looks ridiculous, with his usual suit jacket and tie, but grey flannel pajama pants, looking as though he has two personalities, and I cant help but quirk the corners of my mouth it looks so ridiculous. _

"Hey Jack." _he says as he hugs Angela, then saunters casually over to sit opposite me on the couch. _

"So… how did you sleep? Angela tells me you had a night terror."

"Sweets! If you want to ask me how the dream was, don't go round and round the garden like a teddy bear. Ask."

_Sweets waves his hand for me to explain, so I do. He does not seem surprised by my dream. _

"Dr. Brennan is at my apartment with Booth. She had almost the exact same dream as you, only she described a rather large electric shock that sent her flying into the open coffin. It's the shock Jack. Now, can you…"_Sweets pauses, and then continues, unsure of his decision. _

"Would you mind, telling Angela and I something that no one but Dr. Brennan knows about your experience?" _I pause for a moment, trying to pick a particular moment, then find a suitable one, one I feel no embarrassment about. _

"When we were running out of air, maybe 17 minutes before you found us, I told Dr. Brennan I was honored to die in her presence. That if I did have to go, I could say I died with the most brilliant woman the Jeffersonian will ever see…"_Angela mouths the words oh my god, and Sweets nods, slowly, thinking what I said over, pushing the data through the filing cabinets that must be in his head, trying to remember how you deal with a trauma patient and their trauma buddy._

"I am going to advise you to, shall we say, hangout with Dr. Brennan. Have coffee, and I advise you to bring Angela, she is a common link between you two. Have the coffee, and gradually, start talking about it. In trauma situations, kidnappings, witnessed murder etc, it is essential to talk about with someone who can relate, directly or indirectly, so that you can become less sensitive to things that may connect to your situation. Something as simple as the car ride back from the hospital in Dr. Brennan's case, made her very uneasy, and she required Booth's comfort before she would even put her seat belt on. Booth can connect because of all the people he saw killed and tortured in Afghanistan. As for the nightmares, I know your aversion to hospital provided medication so I have to tell you to wait it out. The dreams should become less vivid and frequent with time. Meanwhile, don't strangle people when you wake up, that is very bad, don't drink too much coffee because too much caffeine will only make the dreams more vivid, oh and stay away from cheese…"_ Sweets gets up, and Angela thanks him for me, sitting back down beside me when he leaves._

"Feel any better?"_ She asks tentatively, rubbing my arm gently. I shake my head and lie back down, sighing heavily. She lies down with me, pressing up against my chest, her heart steady and slow, her breathing deep and full of precious oxygen. We lie there for hours, lights on and glaring. Angela falls asleep around 10 o'clock still pressed against me. But I lie awake for hours, mulling over scenarios in my head, pulling memories that once meant nothing, back into the light, praying that there was something I missed, hoping beyond all hope that I'll find the missing link that provides a trail to my kidnapper. _

_Eventually, Angela wakes up, and I pretend to be fast asleep as she crawls from my now tight grasp around her, slipping away for a shower. I don't even pretend anymore, so I just sit up, and walk over to her little kitchen, making the only thing I can think of for a late breakfast. Eggs. I make them, sunny side up, just the way she likes them, and use the methodically magic of cooking steal away my concentration from particulate combinations. Angela emerges from the bath room wrapped in one of her flowery towels with the look on her face. I drop eggs on her plate, and smile as convincingly as I can at her, telling her the jet from the shower woke me up. _

_After we eat, she asks if I'll go for a walk with her, and I say I will. What better way to breath in clean pure air then in summer? With pure clean air, crutches and the shadow of the Gravedigger, the weight of his burial ritual. _

_Temperance Brennan and Jack Hogins have been buried alive…_

_But I go for the walk anyway, hobbling along at her side slowly, always in silence. _

_Empty, bottomless silence._

_The silence that only follows tragedy… _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ahaha! Now it's Brennan's turn!**_

_I don't want to get in the car. I can just imagine Hodgins in the back seat, his leg bleeding from the cut I had to make in it. I can almost feel the dirt crushing the outsides of the vehicle. I know I am being foolish and despite Booth's gentle encouragement, and Sweets' patience, I refuse to get in the SUV. _

"Bones, just take your time, this must be hard."

_The sting from the taser feels sharper, more acute somehow, and I know that it is only my imagination, but this knowledge does not make me get in the car._

"Booth, I-I can't. I know I can physically, there is nothing impairing me but an obscene amount of anxiety"_ I start shaking violently as Booth walks over to stand beside me, his hand on my shoulder, holding me steady as my knees begin to buckle. I am having an anxiety attack. _

"Bones, Bones! Look at me. You are safe. No one can touch you." _I suddenly can't take it anymore, a wave of emotions that I would usually push away, now overpowering my brain, some much so that I fall to the ground, recreating the fetal position, heavy sobs and thick tears, things usually unknown to me, making themselves apparent. Booth crouches down beside me, and pulls me into his lap, tucking my head under his chin _

"Sh sh shhh. Bones its okay, just let it out." _My cranium is pushed heavily into his esophagus, which should have made him change positions, though he just sits the same way, with me. The night is cool and warm, and the constant drum of traffic something I seem to have missed dearly in the van… The van the Gravedigger buried me in._

"Ho… hod-gi-ins wa-as b-b-bleeding s-soo muu-ch. I th-th-thou-ght he wa-as g-gg-g-going to ble-eed out… An-nd I th-th-"

"Sh Bones I know, just take a minute and have a good cry."

"Booth I-I ca-ca-can't . He'll g-get m-me ag-again, and I'll b-be al-alone."

"Bones he can't hurt you now. You're safe. He can't touch you, no one can, I'm right here."

"Don't l-let me be alone Booth. I ca-can't be alone. I don't want to be alone."

_My nasal passages are blocked by mucus, so my words are stuffy, and mixed with the heavy contractions of my abdomen; it seems like quite an accomplishment to have said anything at all. Booth drags me to my feet and gets me into the car, my struggle very weak, and the danger of riding in the large FBI provided car is less alarming. Booth climbs into the backseat with me, and asks Sweets, who had been very quiet and willing to observe during my panic attack, to drive back to Booth's apartment. Sweets looks back at us through the rearview mirror, his eyebrows quirking, probably collecting more data for his idiotic book, his book about us and his soft science, and I boil with anger, anger towards the baby-faced psychologist. _

_I go to open the tinted window, but stop, as I remember the dirt flooding in while Hodgins and I were buried. The car ride is short, and Booth relieves Sweets of the car, telling him he could handle the situation. _

_Sweets seems reluctant to leave._

_But I wish for nothing more than for him go. _

_I want to sleep._

_I want the silence._

_Booth opens the door to his apartment, and we walk in together and he runs into a long speech about how he'll take the couch, because he is a man, and he can sleep on the couch. _

"I am perfectly capable of sleeping on the couch Booth! In fact it would b better suited for me, as I am smaller and have a more flexible back which can mold to the makings of its frame better."

"Fine. But in return you have to do one thing for me."

"What is this thing I have to do?"

_Booth walks over to his small outdated kitchen and pours some water into a Donald Duck mug, then hands it to me. _

"Drink something. I haven't seen you drink since you blew yourself out of that hell hole."

_I nod slowly, and then set to examining the mug. Printed on its side is a white duck, wearing a seaman's cap and blue blazer. _

"Donald Duck was banned in Finland because he doesn't wear any pants." _I say sipping from the mug. I see a smile flash across Booth's face as I drink. With the rush of cool tap water ebbing away from my throat, Booth wishes me a goodnight, then trudges off to his room, rubbing the back of his head tiredly. I sit at his kitchen table for a short time, maybe 34 minutes, then turn the lights off and lie down on Booth's couch, closing my eyes and welcoming sleep. But I wish I hadn't now…_

_The parking garage stinks of mud and rain water, the coffin open on its bed of dirt, its wooden lid like the tongue of some great animal, about to pull me into its gaping maw. The sting of electricity jolts through my limbs, the spasm throwing me into the coffin, its lid closing in on me, locking me into a grave. My screams are not headed by anyone…_

"Bones! Come on Bones, just wake up and it'll be over!"

_Booth shakes my shoulder violently and I jolt upright as if shocked, pulling away from his touch. I can almost feel the inside of the car door against my fingers, the smell of dirt in my nostrils, the moan of Hodgins from behind me. I close my eyes against the light, the scream that must have been my own now dying in the air. _

_Booth reaches out a hand to comfort me, but I jerk away from it, thinking this is the dream, and I haven't been found yet, I'm still dying with Hodgins, hallucinating from lack of oxygen. I can hear Booth on the phone with someone now, but am too focused on forgetting the dream to care about who it is. _

_I don't struggle as Booth picks me up, folding me against his chest._

_I don't react as he puts me in the passenger seat of the car. _

_Just keep your eyes closed and it will all be over, I tell myself, wondering why I even let my brain trick me this way._

_Silence swirls into the car, our breathing the only things in the air._

_Silence flows into my ears, like smoke, like fog, like air._

_Silence encircles the car, like water, like hunters, like dirt…_

_Dirt in my coffin…_


End file.
